Page 41 of Her Last Breath

‘Don’t think that because we’re letting you out that this is over. Your alibi for the time of Mark’s death is going to be scrutinised in minute detail so you’d better hope it holds water.’ Her voice was hard as she spoke. ‘Nobody can vouch for you on the day that Alice disappeared, and that’s a big problem for you.’

Liam didn’t flinch; it was as though he was sedated.

‘I’ll tell you what, Liam. You’re going to walk out of here today, but this entire police force will be working tirelessly to determine if you had any involvement in Alice’s death, so don’t enjoy the fresh air too much.’

Jane scraped her chair noisily as she got up to leave. Liam’s eyes flicked up towards her, his hands reaching out.

‘Mark … when he’s ready,’ he said, almost shyly. ‘Can you let me know? I’d like to arrange a funeral for him.’

Jane wasn’t prepared for this response. She remembered what Father Walsh had told her about Liam owing him. Was this a final act to settle that debt? The compassion he had for this man sat so uneasily when balanced against the women whose lives he had devastated.

Walking back to the office, Jane thought of the funeral she was going to have to arrange for her own mother. She felt winded by a sucker punch of loss, picturing her mother dead, buried. There would be no second chances, no opportunity to say what she needed to. Jane knew from the deaths of her brother and father how final it was.

They had gone so suddenly, and she had spent decades trying to fill the space they had left behind with answers and some type of closure. She couldn’t allow her mother’s death to have that effect on her. She wouldn’t.

She thought then of Alice Rogers’ children, the effect of her death on them. How were they coping with the loss of their mother? Were they blaming themselves for her sudden disappearance? Or were they simply drowning in grief? Before she could stop herself, Jane found herself marching out of the station, straight towards her car.

Chapter 26

The Rogers lived in a detached house in Cliviger, south of Burnley. Jane parked up on their pebbled drive, aware that behind the house there was nothing but rolling hills and farms. She was more curious than ever about Alice. How had she ended up deserting this beautiful place to live in a grungy terrace where she had swapped bay windows for patches of mould and the broken promises of an uninterested landlord?

Jane called her own mother, as she headed towards the front door.

‘Hello?’ Maeve shouted down the phone.

‘Mum, it’s me, how are you feeling?’

‘How do you think?’

Obviously, she was still annoyed after their fight that morning.

‘Did the solicitor come?’

‘Yes.’

‘Everything sorted?’

‘I have so little to leave to anyone. Only the house, really. I wish I’d done more.’

‘The house is worth a lot, Mum. You and Dad paid off that mortgage early enough.’

‘Let’s hope some good will come of it.’ A pause. ‘Do you need it? The house, I mean?’

‘It’s yours, Mum. You need to do what will make you happy. I’m honestly fine, whatever you decide. But thanks for offering. Are you in any pain?’

‘No, just tired today. I think I’ll have a nap after the news. Message that Lorraine, will you. She tried to give me hummus for lunch. I don’t even know what that is.’

‘OK, Mum, get some rest. I’ll speak to you later.’

Jane knocked lightly on the door and moments later, Owen Rogers opened it. From Alice’s file, Jane knew he was a head of department at a local aerospace manufacturer, specialising in military aircraft components. A man used to holding up under pressure. This became more evident as he led her into the formal lounge. Among tasteful sofas and ottomans sat a trembling Trish. Wearing a cardigan, badly buttoned, face red and blotchy from crying, her fingers were nervously shredding tissues.

Jane sat and refused Owen’s offer of tea. The lounge was framed by well-placed bookcases, one cabinet full of pictures. Mainly of Alice’s children, with a few of a younger Alice herself. She was fresh-faced, smiling, hopeful. Very different to the last photographs Jane had seen on file when the drugs and a hard life had done their damage.

Is this what Ed would have ended up like, she wondered? If he had stayed alive, to let whatever darkness was in his head break him down, piece by piece?

There was a connecting door, with huge panes of glass, to another smaller sitting area. Through the glass Jane saw Alice’s children. Peter was sitting cross-legged, eyes glued to a TV screen. Jane’s breath caught in her throat as Emily turned to look at her. For a brief moment Jane thought she was looking at her own childhood self, blinking the image away. Emily didn’t smile, moved closer to Peter.

‘I keep waiting for her, you know?’ Trish said, voice hoarse and low, as though she hadn’t spoken for hours. ‘She used to disappear sometimes for weeks and I would just hope she’d turn up sooner rather than later. She always did.’